Sweet Decay
by fights
Summary: Professor Wayne, is a University teacher who volunteers with troubled students. While picking up his newly adopted son, Tim, meets the most disturbed high school student he has ever met. Bruce/Joker, pre-slash
1. Mental Decay

**Title: **Mental Decay**  
Author:** Ol' Fighty (fights)  
**Prompt:** "Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall." – Measure for Measure (Act II, Scene i)  
**Disclaimer:** I have no money, nor earn none while writing the most HIGH BROW TRASH in fanfic form regarding our cowled vigilate, Batman.  
**Rating:** PG, like... No gay overtones yet.  
**Warnings:** Teenage Joker, AU  
**Summary:** Professor Wayne, is a University teacher who volunteers with troubled students. While picking up his newly adopted son, Tim, meets the most disturbed high school student he has ever met.  
**Word Count:** 1093 Words

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"Professor Wayne," the deep baritone of Lucius curled into a gentlemanly smile, his right hand met with the young head of Wayne Enterprises while the left gave Bruce's broad shoulder a firm pat. His boss, even though he did most of the running of Wayne Enterprises, he still respected Wayne's father and Bruce's kindness to show his junior any less respect. The sheepish-looking heir was sprinkled with snow and struggled to shift the cupcake case while juggle a bulging bag of drinks and Styrofoam cups.

"Lucius? Doing charity work too?" Bruce smiled, which slowly dissolved due to the somber expression on his mentor's face. "Lucius, why are you here?"

The man was divorced. As for kids, he didn't have any with his wife nor would be having any with Alfred either.

He rarely spoke of relatives nor did much family photographs litter his desks.

"No," Lucius sensed Bruce's though and eyed the man cheerfully placing his shoe on a nearby elevation so he could rest the box of cupcakes on his knee.

He wanted to chase his naive boss out, away from the devilish man who had smiled at him on the way in. The teenage boy with green hair and sliced, crescent smile.

"So what's a tech-head like you doing in an institute like this?"

"Assisting with maximum security," Lucius said, as if reporting rising stock at a meeting, "our locks and security systems have been toyed with."

"Your locks?" Bruce teasing cheek hid veiled concern within his tightening jaw. "So it's personal?"

"They call him the Joker," Lucius shook his head, "he's not just a kid. He's a... I'm afraid to use menace, that might be too flattering."

Lucius poked the plastic case open, reached in and met his lips with a jaw full of chocolate cupcake, appraising the fine work of a certain Wayne butler with his lips.

"A class clown? How bad could he be?" Bruce joked, trying to bring light to the situation searched Lucius's body language and face to pick his brain, something seemed tense. Uneasy. Not that Bruce ever let his guard down, he just...

"When he's in a good mood, I hear. Otherwise, a young criminal mastermind." Lucius sighed, he knew he was dealing with an overly kind and optimistic visionary. He knew Bruce would not relent until after seeing the madness first hand. And if he did, he might try to intervene. Inspire... _'Like your father.'_ He loved the young man as a son, but the boy still believed in humans more than one should. "I know you're trying to prevent future Joe Chills... but even for charity work, Mr. Wayne... You don't want to get locked up with a maniac like that. I tried to fix the malfunction that the guards are claiming, but... Break open a window if push comes to desperation."

"Some rise by sin, Bruce..." Lucius paused and looked Bruce in the eye honestly, "And some by virtue fall...

"Please don't become the later."

Bruce tried to smile, but suffered uncertainty as he watched the man part without as much as a good bye in a hurry to leave.

There was no way he was turning back, he had a birthday boy to bring home. The papers had finalized. Whoever thought it was a great idea to combine a young mental health institute with a children's orphanage was crazy—or probably Jonathan Crane. Most definitely Jonathan Crane.

A Jonathan Crane who was nodding at him as he hurried down the hall.

A Jonathan Crane who had just given him a special smile... Different that his others today, one that sent more chills down his spine than January's cold.

His step quickened, heart beating closer together, erratic.

125, 127... Room 666, Bruce readjusted his load to tear off the paper. But there was a slash through the metal plate number. His hand plummeted to the door knob, thrusting the door open, "TIM!"

"BRUCE!!!" The room was full of coloured balloons, not his doing. A bored looking... Clown looked up from board game, and knocked over a face. "Didja bring me cupcakes?"

"Yeah," Bruce froze, side glancing at a blue balloon that had just assaulted his face.

"Cupcakes?" The boy fumbled with the container that outstretch his arms and then spun in circles. "Are these mine? Can I share these?"

"They're yours." Bruce nodded, while rested the soft drinks in the corner, trying to ignore the costumed stranger in the room. Trying to look forward to the nurses scolds for feeding the orphans sugar.

He felt relieved that the boy escaped the balloon filled room, even if he was stuffing himself with sweets bad for a growing boy in his absence.

Bruce approached the other person, swatting balloons away like an explorer on safari.

"Tim talks about you a lot." Bruce felt the churning discomfort in his belly. He played board games with Tim every visit. Behind closed doors.

The teenaged boy looked up and smiled in an automated way, as if he worked at MacDonald's his whole life. "Fancy a game of Guess Who?"

Bruce warily eyed the boy, who looked to be fifteen, with eyes glittering with age and delight. He looked at the metal seat for tacks before sitting down, the boy reset the game, hand racing and fumbling with the face while chuckling to himself. Bruce dared not to ask what was funny, though the teens coquettish glances up, it looked like he knew.

Bruce lifted the faces up... His eyes stopped at the first face... It was a newspaper clipping... As he did a fast reveal, he noticed they were all pictures from the paper. Famous Gotham celebrities and to-Knows. He had half the mind to toss the game in the boy's face, but the green haired youth had already started with a sole tile up. "I'm waiting, Mister."

Bruce looked at the boy and down at his choices. "Does he have green eyes?"

"No."

The slam of tiles came.

"Does he have a beard?"

"No," the green eyed boy watched Bruce's fingers topple more tiles with a steel face, licking his lips like a lizard.

"You're really bad at this," the scarred teen sniggered.

Bruce did a double-take, "does he have a scar?"

"No." Bruce pressed the tile that matched his opponent's face down.

Bruce looked at one of the two remaining tiles down.

"Is he Bruce Wayne?"

The youth bore a genuine smile, unlike the false one he was greeted with upon the game start...

"Bruce! I saved one for you and the Joker! Bruce?"


	2. Tooth Decay

**Title:** Tooth Decay  
**Author:** Ol' Fighty (fights)  
**Prompt:** "Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall." – Measure for Measure (Act II, Scene i)  
**Disclaimer:** I have no money, nor earn none while writing the most HIGH BROW TRASH in fanfic form regarding our cowled vigilate, Batman.  
**Rating:** PG, like... No gay overtones yet.  
**Warnings:** Teenage Joker, AU  
**Summary:** Professor Wayne picks up the strange boy at his old private school due an emergency on Dr. Crane's side.  
**Word Count:** 777 Words

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"Do you know why I'm here?" Bruce posed, and then re-aligned his body. He had come running from a photo-shoot, undraping the lovely Brazilian models off his body. He had rushed over to assist with serious medical emergency down by a private school, eager to dislodge the day's sin and guilt from his body.

The green haired, clown-faced boy was flipping though a women's magazine. Eyebrow wriggling at the article he was reading, his face was fighting guffaw, with a twinge of pain flashing on his face at the height of his mirth. It was a surreal scene, to see a young man at his old educational institute dressed in the same uniform he had worn, now resting in his old closet.

Bruce caught the article title: "How to catch your man's attention, eight easy steps."

He raised his eyebrow at the photo selection for the man, so that was what that past photoshoot was for.

The blue suit was impeccably clean, even the thick make-up that caked the boy's face did not smear onto the navy cloth. The boy stood out, even with his bad posture, back leaning on the seat horribly.

The Joker looked up at Bruce and smiled for ten seconds before he dropped the mirage of a visage in exchange for something more flat. "Uh... Did the school called you?"

"I was hoping to figure it out from you," Bruce readjusted his coat that didn't need readjusting. Something about being in the boy's presence made him want to feel bigger, more mature, more adult. And the clown boy knew, a cat-like stare reaching into his very soul. "Yes. The school called Mr. Crane, and he was unavailable and I came as a substitute."

"I have a cavity," the boy smiled, again.

This time, Bruce caught his teeth horribly yellowed, chiseled and warped. Tan rows more crooked then the buildings in the narrows. Bruce hid his shock, choking it down like a snake swallowing a cat.

Probably ten cavities by the looks of it.

"Have you ever seen a dentist," he managed.

"No," the boy replied. The stark reply was aided by a drop in temperature, with a woman opening a window to shoo away a bat.

"Well, we should go get that all settled," Bruce moved to gather the Joker's antique brown, school bag only for the fifteen year old to clamp his hand down on the aged handle. "Have you ever seen a doctor?"

"No." The loose teeth seemed to tighten with the hissing words, "I haate doctors."

Such passion, Bruce closed his eyes and sighed. Was the kid a kicker or a puncher, he was not looking forward to this examination. Especially when with the looks of the situation, he was probably going to be the doctor.

"Mr. Crane is a doctor." Bruce responding, immediately wishing to retract his words.

His green eyes didn't seem to say' I hate him too,' but there was nothing else indicating the man was his hero either.

Bruce nodded, understanding. "Well I don't like Mr. Crane."

This caused an eruption of laughter, piercing howling laughter through the weathered private school office. The green haired boy grabbed his scarred cheeks in pain, but still simpered with giggles.

"We can go to my father's old office," Bruce outstretched his hand, "I'm a doctor. You can trust me. I promise."

"I don't know," the clown boy pressed his left hand on his cheek at the edge on his scar, eyelashes fluttering. "This IS my lucky cavity—" Followed by something Bruce (was happy to have) missed.

Bruce mouthed in pure disbelief, 'you DO have more than one?'

The man gathered his adult sensibilities, the ones that brought unruly, clowning children to hospital halls. "So, as you know, my name is Bruce Wayne—"

"I know," Wayne froze, watching the pink tongue becoming uncaged from behind the teenager's yellow 'teeth.' Lapping up the red thing on the corner of his long lips, "you're Mr. Bruce Wayne."

"But I never got your name," Bruce interjected, much to the youth's amusement and mock-shock.

The teeth seemed to mouth to an unseen audience, falling into his chair with a entertainer's arm motions, silently speaking, 'doesn't know MY name.'

"Some call me the Rumpelstiltskin of this here educational institute due to my favoured and famous name—" The boy leap from his loose slouch, hand wrenching around Bruce's hand as if a part of a vaudeville routine. His jubilant handshake raising Bruce's hand as high as his face and as low as his knees. Hand clammy, fingertips cold, grip tight in the wrong places. "My name is the Joker, I am over the moon just re-meeting you."

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Note:

Why is it his lucky cavity? Find out in the next part.


	3. Moral Decay

**Title:** Moral Decay **  
Author:** Ol' Fighty (fights)  
**Prompt:** "Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall." – Measure for Measure (Act II, Scene i)  
**Disclaimer:** I have no money, nor earn none while writing the most HIGH BROW TRASH in fanfic form regarding our cowled vigilate, Batman.  
**Rating:** PG 15, for gay people.  
**Warnings:** Teenage Joker, Strong language, AU.  
**Summary:** Jason warns Bruce about the Joker being attracted to him. Bruce adds that the Joker wasn't the only one with a crush.  
**Word Count:** 1236 Words

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"Dad, that guy's fucked up." The fifteen year old stood by the door, brown cookie in hand.

"Jason, what have I told you about eating and walking? And mind your language." Jason glanced sideways, the scolding had probably lowered whatever confidence Jason had mustered to speak with him. His second son was usually demanding, obnoxious and loud, meaning the situation was serious.

A situation that only made him want to hold the boy closer, a young man who had grown much to old for hugs. Bruce turned his head to the computer screen, clacking at the keys to save and close his documents. Father and son time between himself and Todd was not always enjoyable, but he valued the time and the positive changes the young man had made until now.

"Dad, I'm serious." Jason scarfed the cookie down, he was fond of gingersnaps. It was one of the few things that could abate the delinquent's bad moods. "You're not thinking about adopting him are you? He's not like me. He's worse."

Bruce had always feared touching Jason, not because he was violent, but because the violence was a mild show to cover his fragility. His finger tapped the mouse, redirecting his needs into the scrolling wheel. "That won't be necessary, Dr. Jonathan Crane is his permanent mentor and guardian."

"I," Jason fingers curled in, "I don't like the way he looks at you."

"Hm?" Bruce raised his eyebrow.

"The Joker," Bruce tuned in more closely to Jason's words. "I think he wants to have sex with you dad."

Bruce clenched his lower jaw, holding it in place to keep from falling.

That would explain a lot of things.

The touches at night when there would be an hour of darkness within the mental health facility, brushes of fingers whenever the games of Sorry became too fervent eliciting "sorry" from the clown's lips, more not sorry and sexual. It was naive of himself to think the boy was not cornering him. Perhaps he tried to find the best in the Joker, when... His brain ached.

The worried turned to his cof—cocoa, making the switch. Setting an example, too much coffee was bad. Especially at night when one sleeps.

Bruce had seen the Joker, his rage on tape. The boy had no limits. No boundaries. No rules. No morality even if he had presented himself as a perfect gentleman in person, taken Bruce's hand as if it were a maiden's. He had read the Joker's file, parents very much alive but the Joker was removed from their care as they were... unfit. He lived in the orphanage, under Dr. Crane's care.

Dr. Crane was not a proper father figure. The way he greeted the boy, he always seemed like he was a mad scientist passing his plots over to the teenager to execute.

"Jason, I don't know what you're worried about, I'm an adult. Responsible adults don't have sex with minors."

Or, more that was one of his rules. One of many.

"If he was eighteen, would you have sex with him?"

Bruce sputtered, struggling with the hot cocoa mug at his lips. He set the chocolate broth down and reassured his son, "Jason, he's as old as you are."

"He doesn't have rules, dad."

"Don't worry, Jason, the Joker doesn't stand a chance." It was rare that Dick would return home from University on a Friday. He had been overly cautious and protective of his father ever since he had learned of the Joker easing into his territory.

"Hi dad, I'm back," Dick Grayson greeted, with a wink attached.

Bruce wanted to slink into his chair and disappear into the leather seat.

Dick lingered in the doorway, cautious of how his body language could be read by Jason. He was damp in April rain, and while his eyes longed for his father, his shivering body relented. He looked back at Bruce, tearing his eyes away from Jason. "I'm going to go take a shower, Alfred told me you might be free tomorrow. Maybe we could go back to the Manor."

Shit, Tim was off at a sleep-over and Jason would be staying over at a friends after seeing a movie.

They would be alone.

The corner of Bruce's smile pulled up, as if the Joker was teaching him how he made his smile brighter. "We can talk about it in the morning."

With a salute, the Dick was gone.

"I think Dick wants to have sex with you too, dad." Jason looked at Bruce, realizing he had spoken out loud.

He struggled not to say, no shit. This wasn't Harvey, it was his fifteen year old. Perhaps he could cajole the DA into hitting the bar with him later, if Rachel let him off the leash. He had a lot of talk about, and much more to drink about. "I've... Fought off his advances first-hand."

This extracted much more surprise from Jason than Bruce had anticipated, even though Dick and himself were not related by blood they had a close relationship.

One that his first son often tried to bring closer. "This is too weird dad. You're a gay magnet. I'm going to go."

Bruce rose from his seat, mug in hand. He passed by the boy and rustled his mop. "What? Afraid I might make you gay too?"

Jason's eyes widened and then he turned fast, acting as if he had been badly burned.

Bruce's fingers curled guiltily. Jason still wouldn't let him touch him.

"Yes," and then Jason could be heard running down the hall for his life.

"Oh, I thought he would never leave." The Joker snatched the hot chocolate that Bruce had held firmly in his hands, "rain's so fucking cold."

"My dad... I mean, (sclk) Dr. Crane has an emergency trip to Paris," Bruce opened the envelope and rolled his eyes.

"Sorry," the Joker responded automatically, without the slightest remorse or sympathy. His eyes seemed to be searching Bruce's face, like a doll with glass eyes.

No matter how diabolical, evil, demonic and crazy he was, Bruce couldn't find the evil within himself leave a boy in the city alone in the rain. Homeless.

"Well," Bruce took the Joker's... err... The teen pulled his school bag closer to his body, his only piece of luggage. "I hope you're going to get along with my family as you'll be living here for three years—What's that?"

An odd piece of jewellery adorned the boy's finger, it looked like a ring... But the jewel was—

"Errrr... It's my lucky tooth, I couldn't bear to part with it—"

"So you made it into a ring." Bruce rubbed his eyes, it was official. The Joker actually registered as completely insane. It had taken a while. "Why's it so lucky?"

"It helped me get past your security here and at the Crazy Teen Hospital," Bruce gaped, loosing all composition. If he were near a wall, he could slouch, but the Joker would notice. And he didn't want the Joker—but the boy had already taken note. The Joker pressed the fingers in his open hand as he listed off the reasons, "it introduced us again after I thought you had forgotten about me already, and that's how I met you."

"Met me?"

"I think it was my destiny to meet you," the Joker fluffed with a girlish sigh, "I think I'm in love with you."

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[**The End**]

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**Note:**

This is the end of this series, I might continue it later (if I am harassed enough to). *macho pose* I don't do minooorrsss. So IF it flashed forward, the Joker will probably be a lot older. Like eighteen, then it's okay. He'll be ripe.

Okay! Thanks for reeadiiingggg!


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